The South Mexico Pack
by Firebird'sDaughter
Summary: Years before Bella Swan was even born, maybe even before her parents were, there existed the South Mexico Pack. During the times of the great Southern Vampire Wars, these werewolves played a large part. They were immune to vampire venom, as well.


They started out as no one.

They would go down in immortal history as heroes.

Even the ones who died.

They were immune to vampire venom. They were stronger than others of their kind. What they did would be remembered forever, though many of their names were lost. They died to preserve and to protect.

They were the South Mexico Pack.

"Look, Bella, it's okay. All that happens is it hurts like hell, alright?" Samuel promised the frightened newborn, trying to sound cheerful, as he rubbed the place she had just bitten him. The rest of the Cullens stared at him.

"But **how**?" Carlisle finally asked. Trish grinned.

"Sammy's special."

"It's not just me." Smauel retorted before rolling up the sleeve of his white collared shirt. His entire arm was coved in bite marks, the pale scars standing out like neon signs against his much darker skin. "The entire pack was like this."

"What happened?" Edward this time. Samuel looked at him sideways.

"Ever heard of the South Mexico Pack?"

"Who hasn't? They're heroes." Samuel barked a loud, skeptical laugh.

"Ha! I wouldn't put it like that. We weren't **that** great." Almost every jaw in the room hit the floor.

"You.... You were..." Samuel nodded, his face darkening.

"We weren't the siants history works us up to be. Millions of innocent died in our jaws...

Two huge wolves smashed through the ruined stone wall.

_Holy...! Sam, you okay?_

_I'm fine, Santiago. It's just a bite on the paw._

_Just checking._

The large black and silver one struggled to it's feet.

_Let's go._

The lighter colored one nodded, rising akwardly. They raced down a small corridor that lead deeper into the maze of gothic Roman halls and statues.

_They're behind us. Don't look back._

_Wasn't planning on it._

The air was hot and dry, making their throats burn as they ran. A howl cut through the silence like a ceramic knife.

_Donna's got her patrol in position._

_Like I didn't just hear that myself._

_Cut me some slack, old man!_

_How much?_

_How about I just shut up?_

_Sounds like a plan._

They ran on, finally arriving at a fork in the path.

_See you when the dust settles!_

_What happened to shutting up?_

They split up, each dashing down a separate passage. Sam ran like his life depended on it, which it probably did, unless they had decided to follow Santiago.

_Sam._

His Alpha's voice in his mind was quiet and calm.

_They're after Santi. Take the north face on the next junction you come to. Donna's waiting at Joined Hands._

_Yessir._

_Phase when you get there._

_What?_

But the pack leader was already gone. The huge wolf raced on, baring left, pressing himself against the wall.

_Sam, hurry. Santi beat you._

_Thought they were after him._

_They were._

_Oh._

His speed picked up, his paws barely touching the ground. He flashed down the left path, racing toward the rendevous point. He bolted past the aged statues, finally coming out into the clean night air. The stars overhead sparkled, but up ahead and above, on a cliff, seven enormus wolves were shilouetted, along with five human forms. He trotted into the forest a little ways. A tall boy with dark gold skin and brown curls jogged out. He was pulling a carmel colored collared shirt on over a red T-shirt. His ragged jeans were too long for him, and had holes in the knees. He wore no shoes. He climbed easily and swiftly up to the crown of the cliff.

"What goes, guys?" The wolves all turned to look at him. The largest among them, a white one with blue eyes, trotted over.

_It's Santi. He's... Not well_.

Sam paced quickly over to where most of the humans were. One of the seated ones looked up as he came over. She was small, with a full, heart-shaped face, and long lashes. Her skin was a deep chocolate brown, her eyes matching. A scrwany latino boy lay with his head in her lap. He wore a pair of old cargo shorts and a grimy tank-top. She wore a baggy shirt and loose pajama pants that looked like they'd never been washed. Sam knelt beside them. The latino boy looked like like something had gotten it's claws into him. Several very large somethings.

"Georgy found him in the tunnel. You knew Santi. He... He always thought he was faster then he was and, and..." Santi's eyes opened.

"Gave them one hell of a fight. Scared them off."

"Georgy killed them, you idiot."

"On'y as a kindness to th' poor folks, after Santi hurt 'em so." A tall, buxom blonde woman came over. She was dressed no different than the others, in simple clothes, and dirty. She spoke with a heavy western accent. Sam looked up at her, squinting at her face.

"Whatever you say, Georgiana." He took Santi's calused hand in his own. "You just hold out, kid. Okay? You pull through this and you can talk all you want."

"You don't mean that, old man."

"Okay, you can't call me **that**."

"Shucks." The girl holding Santi's head shook her own.

"It's okay, Donna. It isn't more than a scratch." Sam said it for Santi's benefit. The looks he and Donna exchanged spelled out something very different.

"Big scratch." Mumbled Santiago.


End file.
